


Cream and Sugar?

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-24
Updated: 1999-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser and Thatcher go out for that coffee.





	Cream and Sugar?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Cream and Sugar?

## Cream and Sugar?

by Mary

* * *

This has always been one of my favorite unseen scenes to contemplate. As amazing as it was that Fraser got up the nerve to ask Thatcher out for coffee, it was perhaps even more amazing that she accepted. So, what exactly happened that night, while they were both apparently feeling so brave? No, not that! At least, not in my story. But I do feel the following scenario lends even greater resonance to the exchanges and developments between them the next time we see them together, in "We Are the Eggmen." 

Disclaimer: Alliance started this. I'm just fantasizing about what they may have intended to happen next with their characters. 

Humor/Episode-Related; PG; Fraser/Thatcher; Spoilers for "The Edge" 

**CREAM AND SUGAR?**

By Mary 

He didn't really expect her to accept his invitation to go out for coffee. But after managing to overtake the disgruntled war veteran who held him hostage at gunpoint, he felt momentarily brave. Besides, he wasn't ready to go home to his lonely apartment and go to bed. The assignment to provide security at the North American Free Trade Summit Conference had drained him emotionally, and he needed a friendly face to soothe him. And, at that moment, she was the friendliest face available. 

Despite the intense dislike Meg Thatcher had exhibited toward Constable Benton Fraser since taking over as his commander at the Consulate several weeks earlier, she had stopped threatening to transfer him, and, it seemed to him, sometimes entertained friendly thoughts about him. The way she had cleaned his "injury" in Lieutenant Welsh's office the other day, although embarrassing, struck him as almost motherly, and aroused Oedipal emotions in him. The cold, harsh, business-like Inspector Thatcher who first presented herself to him would never have touched him in such an intimate manner. 

The truth was that Meg found Ben just as attractive as he found her. If they had met under different circumstances, who knows what may have developed between them. As it was, he was her subordinate, albeit a very desirable man into the bargain, but a subordinate, nonetheless. There was no possibility of a romantic relationship. 

Unfortunately for Meg, her plan to keep temptation at bay by making life so miserable for Constable Fraser that he would either request a transfer or, at the very least, avoid her presence as much as possible, had failed. He had endeared himself to her with his sincere loyalty, honesty, and dedication to her and to his duty, regardless of the harshness with which she treated him. However, his penchant for disobeying her when he saw fit made him a challenge, especially since he usually managed to "get his man" on these occasions. She was learning to trust his judgment, if not intellectually, then instinctively. This scared her, as it seemed to be fostering an intimacy that she could not handle. So, every now and again, especially when his disobedience was related to an insignificant matter, she felt compelled to remind him of her authority with a stern, perhaps bordering on cruel, reprimand. 

Ben's heart leapt when she said she would see that he receive a commendation for his success in preventing an attack on the participants at the trade summit. She was finally starting to see him as a competent Deputy Liaison Officer, even if she didn't always agree with his methods. He hoped to encourage her to regard him more as a team player and less as a foolish lackey by declining her offer of a commendation and suggesting a cup of coffee instead. 

Ben could see that Meg was uncomfortable with his invitation, so he quickly brushed off the whole idea as if it meant nothing to him. But he did feel her "I don't think..." very deeply during that brief instant during which her words hung in the air. It hurt him to be rejected upon reaching out as a friend. It had been a frequently lonely life growing up and working in Northern Canada, so when he found someone with whom he felt an affinity, he took that person to his heart. And so he had with Meg, um, Inspector Thatcher. But she would not be easily taken. 

When he heard her say "All right," he spun around to look at her. The little nod of his head and his restrained "Good" was all he could do to mask his supreme joy. It was an awkward moment for both of them, as each wondered exactly what the other was implying. 

* * *

They entered the coffee shop and Ben headed for a booth. When he turned to ask Meg if the table he had chosen was okay, he saw her already seated at the counter. Embarrassed, and somewhat disappointed, he went to join her. 

"May I take your coat, Ma'am?" he asked, standing a respectful distance from her, with his hands behind his back. 

"Thank you, Constable," she replied as she started to remove her coat. 

Ben helped her with her coat and then took it over to a rack and hung it. He then removed his own coat and carefully laid it over hers, as if to protect it. 

As soon as Ben left Meg at the counter, the waiter appeared and started flirting with her. He was not unattractive, and at another time she might have enjoyed his company. But this did not seem the time. No matter what Fraser's intentions were, it would be rude for her to give her attention to this stranger rather than to him. Besides, she was curious to know exactly what Fraser's intentions were! 

"Is he your husband?" the waiter asked her, indicating Fraser. 

"No." 

"Boyfriend?" 

"Excuse me, but I don't really see how this is any of your business." 

"Aw, c'mon, sure you do. I have to size up the competition, don't I?" 

"The what?" Meg asked in disgust. 

"Personally, I don't think he's your type." 

"You don't even know me, let alone my type." 

"True. It's just that if I was out with a beautiful woman, such as yourself, I wouldn't be off flirting with other women," the waiter said as he nodded in Fraser's direction. 

Meg looked at the waiter, who looked at her and then back to Fraser. She swiveled her stool around and saw Fraser at the coat rack, surrounded by every woman in the place who suddenly decided to hang up her coat. He resembled Jesus with the lepers as he took and hung their coats for them, trying to keep up with the insistent throng. 

"Is he always like that?" the waiter asked. 

"If you mean helpful and courteous, yes, he is," Meg answered as she stared at Fraser, feeling sorry for him, angry at him, and jealous \-- all at the same time. 

"No, that's not exactly what I meant..." 

"Too bad. Maybe you could learn something," she interrupted with a not-too-subtle hint. 

"Okay, reading you loud and clear. But, trust me, lady, one of these days you'll be ready for a man who'll treat you with a little more respect," he said and started to walk away. 

"Wait a minute!" Meg called him back. "Aren't you supposed to be waiting on me?" 

"Aha! Second thoughts?" he answered, leaning his elbows on the counter and putting his face in front of hers. 

"Not quite. I haven't even had first thoughts about you. Well, nothing you'd want to hear, anyway." 

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, as he stood and backed away from her. "Now that hurt!" 

"Good. It was intended to." 

"You're a cruel one, you know that?" he asked. 

"So I've heard, yes," she said as she watched Fraser finally making his way back to the counter. "I've found I don't usually get the results I'm looking for with kindness." 

"Inspector, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I got a little...um...caught up...with the coats. Well, not caught up with the coats, exactly..." Ben fumbled around for an apology. 

"I saw it, Fraser. Sit down," she ordered him, slightly embarrassed. 

"Yes, Sir." He obediently sat on the stool next to her and folded his hands on the countertop. 

"Sir?" the waiter asked Meg, confused. 

"You got a problem with that?" Meg challenged him. 

"Hey, me? No way! Whatever floats your boat, I say. So, is this like some slave and master game?" 

Fraser looked at the waiter and then at Meg, totally confused. He saw Meg's look of disgust and wondered if she needed to be rescued. 

"I'm sorry. I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said as he extended a hand to the waiter in greeting. "My name is Constable Benton Fraser." 

"What kind of a name is that?" the waiter asked as he shook Ben's hand. 

"Well, Benton was the name given to me by my parents, Robert and Caroline Fraser..." 

"Why?" 

"...I have no idea," he answered, then picked up where he'd left off. "...And Constable isn't, strictly speaking, my name, it's my designation of rank. You see, I'm a member of the RCMP..." 

"The what?" the waiter asked. 

"...the Royal Canadian Mounted Police..." 

"You're a Mountie?" 

"Yes, I am. In fact, so is..." 

"In Chicago? You on vacation, or something?" 

"No..." 

"Oh, God!" Meg sighed, putting her face in her hands, knowing what was coming next. 

"...I first came here, to Chicago, on the trail of the killers of my father..." 

"Robert Fraser?" The waiter showed he had been paying attention. 

"...why, yes, and, for reasons that don't need exploring at this, um, coffee shop, I have remained, attached as liaison to the Canadian Consulate." 

The waiter stared at Ben in wonder for several seconds, then asked, "Attached to what?" 

"To me!" Meg answered impatiently. She took Ben's hand in hers and leaned closer to him. "You talk too much sometimes, Fraser. We're going to have to do something about that." 

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," he answered, anxiously looking from her hand, which held his, to her eyes. 

"Perhaps something like this." She hoped he would understand the reason for her next move, but she could not be sure. She leaned forward, put her arms around his neck, drew him close, and kissed him, long and sweet, on the mouth. 

"Oh, dear," he mumbled when she finally took a breather. 

"Coffee, Fraser?" she asked, still clinging to him with their faces inches apart. He nodded in bewilderment and she ordered "Two coffees, please!" then pressed her lips to Ben's again until the waiter left to get the coffee. 

With a quick wipe of her mouth, Meg sat back on her stool and turned it to face the counter, and Ben followed suit. 

"Thank you, Fraser. For playing along, I mean." 

"Yes, Sir. It was my, um...it was nothing -- well, no, not nothing..." 

"Forget about it, Fraser. That's an order." 

"Understood, Sir." 

They sat at the counter, silent, thinking about nothing but the kiss. The waiter returned with their coffee, then backed away just a little, to watch them. 

"Cream and sugar, Constable?" Meg asked, grabbing them from further down the counter. 

"Thank you kindly, Sir," Ben answered. 

Meg took his cup, added some cream, and then began to drop spoonful after spoonful of sugar into it, as Ben and the waiter both stared, incredulous. Ben didn't want to embarrass her, so he didn't say anything until the waiter had left. 

"Inspector...um...Ma'am?" 

"What is it, Fraser?" she asked, still spooning sugar into his cup. 

"Um, my coffee, Sir." 

Meg jumped out of her reverie and pushed Ben's coffee cup to him, as he stared at it with dread. 

"Sorry. Drink your coffee, Constable. Then we should be going." 

"Yes, Sir," he replied, but he just continued to stare at his cup while Meg drank her coffee. 

* * *

A tap on his shoulder startled Ben, and he turned around to see a young woman standing so close to him that his knees bumped her as he faced her. 

"Do you work here?" she asked him. 

"Um, no, I'm sorry. I don't. I work at the..." 

"Fraser!" Meg cut him off before he could give his little spiel yet again. 

"Yes, Sir?" 

"I don't think she cares where you work." 

"Yes, Sir." He then turned back to the woman and said, "No, Ma'am, I'm sorry. I don't work here. If you like, I could get the waiter's attention for you..." 

"No, no, that's not necessary. I don't need anything." 

"Oh. Well, it's just that when you asked if I worked here..." 

"It's that uniform you're wearing. It looks like a waiter's uniform." 

"Oh, yes," he said as he looked down at his clothes. He'd forgotten to change before leaving the summit reception. 

"It's incredibly sexy on you," she stated, as she started to touch him, running her fingers under the jacket and across his vest. "Is that why you wear it?" 

"Oh, brother!" Meg exclaimed quietly. 

Ben crimsoned and sat with his back up against the counter, looking nervously at the hand caressing him. 

"Um, no...no. It's a rather long story, but the fact is I have to return the uniform." 

"So get your paws off it!" Meg bellowed. 

"Oh, are you with him?" the woman said as she removed her hand from Ben. 

"Yes, I'm with him. What does it look like?" 

"Well, to be honest, it didn't look like anything to me. I couldn't even tell that you knew each other." She then turned to Ben and said, "I come here all the time, if you're ever looking for someone who can show you a good time." 

Ben's eyes widened at the forwardness of this stranger. Suddenly, he had an idea. He looked at Meg, who simultaneously looked at him. He smiled at her; she smiled back. She had the same idea. 

Ben reached a hand out to Meg and she took it. He pulled her to her feet and over to him. She fell into his lap as they wrapped their arms around each other and kissed tenderly, both of them active participants this time. As the kiss became more passionate, the woman walked away. 

When Meg finally noticed that the woman had left, she forced herself to pull away from Ben. She sat there, in his lap, shell-shocked. 

"She's gone." Meg eventually said. 

"Oh," Ben replied, looking at her, equally shell-shocked. "Good. Thank you, Sir." 

"My pleasure....um, I mean, no problem, Constable." 

They simultaneously glanced down at Ben's lap, then uncomfortably shifted their gaze to each other's eyes. They continued to stare at each other longingly, fantasizing about what just happened. Meg realized she should get up from Ben's lap, but that would have drawn awkward attention to the situation, so she continued to sit there. 

"Fraser?" 

"Yes, Ma'am?" 

"Did you drink your coffee?" 

"No, Ma'am." 

"Don't you think you should?" 

"No, Ma'am. I don't think that would be a very good idea." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you emptied half of the sugar bowl into it, Ma'am." 

"Oh," Meg blushed and looked away. "Sorry, Fraser. I was..." 

"Distracted, Ma'am. Yes, I understand." 

Meg looked at him and nodded her thanks, and he nodded back. 

"Perhaps we should go before something else..." She looked at him and could not finish the sentence. "It's late. We have an early morning meeting with Lieutenant Welsh." 

"Yes, Sir. I'll get our coats." But he didn't move. 

Meg was still in his lap. She looked stiff, as if afraid to move a muscle. As it happened, she was quite enjoying the sensation of this odd intimacy, but, of course, she could not admit that to him. At any rate, she didn't want to make this any more embarrassing for Ben than it already was. 

"Fraser?" Meg said after an awkward moment of silence. 

"Yes, Sir?" 

"I appreciate your inviting me out tonight, but, in the future, it might be wise for us to avoid these situations." 

"Understood, Sir." 

"Good." Meg paused, then uttered "Oh, damn!" 

"What's the matter, Sir?" 

"I can't seem to move. I'm afraid you're going to have to help me up." 

"I would, Sir, but..." Ben was still in no condition to get up. 

"But what?" she asked, pretending she hadn't noticed. 

"I appear to be immobile as well, Sir." 

"Two coffees!" Meg requested from the passing waiter. 

"Thank you kindly, Sir," Ben said with a sigh and a grateful smile of relief. 

"When you're ready, Fraser." 

* * *

After they finally made it to their respective beds, neither of them slept a wink all night long. 

* * *

**THE END**

maryspen@aol.com 


End file.
